Two minutes alone in the bedroom
by Afsaneh
Summary: Christian and Syed get it on - eventually. Starts in canon - who knows where it will go?
1. Chapter 1

There were long periods in the Unit when they barely spoke. Standing at right angles to each other, at separate work benches, eyes down, chopping and skewering meat, or cutting vegetables into thick, cumbersome chunks, according to the different recipes. If they looked up they could see each other's profile from the corner of their eye, and hear the tapping of a knife on a chopping board, or the scrape of a pan against the stainless steel worktop. Sometimes, one of them would put the radio on, a commercial station pumping out the cheap, tinny tunes that Christian so often heard in clubs. More often, though, they worked in silence. The cold glow of the metal characterised the atmosphere – sterile, cool, clinical. Yet when Christian returned home in the evening he could still smell the warm, pungent fragrance of cumin and coriander on his clothes, and see the golden yellow stain of turmeric lingering on his finger tips.

He hadn't thought much about Syed at first. He'd taken the younger man's comment about his handshake when they'd introduced themselves as a not-too-subtle hint that Syed was homophobic and thus dismissed him from his thoughts. But as the weeks went by he'd found Syed difficult to ignore. He was quiet, and unassuming, but Christian found himself increasingly aware of Syed's presence, even looking forward to the younger man's arrival each day. They still rarely spoke, but the hours went faster when Syed was there, and not just because the workload was halved

Christian had never been fond of Zainab. She was energetic and hardworking, and dedicated to the success of the business, but he knew she disapproved of the way he chose to live. She controlled the men in her family with a sharp tongue and both her sons and husband were quick to jump the minute she uttered a word. Yet Syed was endlessly patient with her, calm and measured in his responses, sometimes looking over to Christian for a shared glance of mutual understanding. Christian normally looked away. He was jealous, he realised – envious of the Masoods' ability to tolerate each other's faults and enjoy each others' company, wishing that his own family were so quick to forget and forgive.

When Amira arrived in the kitchen for the first time, Christian's gaze travelled from her crimped hair to her painted toenails. It wasn't a sexual appraisal, but Christian was used to critiquing people's sense of style – and this woman was stunning. If he was straight, he'd have whisked her to bed within an hour, but Syed seemed content with a daily peck on the cheek or the occasional outstretched hand. His name for her – Princess – was particularly apt, Christian thought. He tended to avoid high maintenance men – he'd been accused of being one himself from time to time – but this woman took the need for attention to new heights. Yet Syed was consistently attentive and adoring when required – carrying her shopping, collecting her clothes from the dry cleaners, even, Christian was aware, paying her rent some weeks.

He'd bragged about his night with James on his birthday, thinking it would shock or repulse the Muslim man, but his boasting had backfired and he ended up feeling foolish and exposed. Later, sitting in the pub with James, trying to get their friendship back to a comfortable footing, it was Syed's face that flitted across his mind as he stared at the picture of the personal trainer on James' mobile phone. "I don't want your sloppy seconds," he'd pouted. "I prefer dark haired guys anyway." Had he said that out loud? Thinking back later, he wasn't sure whether he'd even thought it. Christian didn't have a type – or if he did, it was usually just 'available'.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's the middle of the night, Syed". With typical diplomacy, Syed had blamed the early start on the day of Bushra's party on his mother, and made Christian laugh with his imitation of her persistent nagging. The rest of the day had been unadulterated hard work but Christian reckoned he'd scored a point or two with Amira's singing and his successful flirtation with Bushra. He wasn't really surprised by her reaction when he'd come out, but he hadn't expected that his colleagues would recoil in the way they did.

His anger at their reaction crackled inside him as they cleared up at the hall, and went back to the Unit. They were supposed to be a team, but it had been made very clear who was the outsider. No surprise then, that he lashed out at Syed when he walked in: "Just go, Syed." "I can't". What the hell was the man talking about? Why couldn't he just abide by his own principles and leave Christian alone? But Syed was looking at him, stubborn and defiant. Christian didn't stop to try and decipher what was going on in Syed's eyes, but when the younger man did turn to leave, he grabbed his elbow, knowing that if they didn't resolve this now, the moment might not come again.

The argument froze, the moment stopped in time. Christian's brain couldn't think fast enough to compute how they'd got from 'haraam' to this. But when Syed's lips touched his, all rational thought dropped from his mind. Slammed up against the freezer, their lips met, moved apart, and met again with increasing hunger. Christian's hands went round Syed's waist, brushing urgently up and down against his back. Syed groaned softly and Christian smiled, increasing the pressure from his lips, moving his hands between them, pulling Syed's t-shirt out of his trousers and gently stroking the soft hair he could feel at Syed's waistband.

Syed's hands were around Christian's head, pulling his face closer to his own, consuming him as if Christian were about to disappear at any moment.

"Sy".

His only reply was another groan.

"Sy."

"Mnnmmhhhmmm."

Christian pulled away. "Sy. We can't do this here. What if someone came in?"

"Shit. Who? What? I … I don't know…" Syed buried his head in Christian's shoulder.

"Let's go back to mine. We can do this in privacy there."

Syed looked Christian in the eyes and for a moment, Christian thought the younger man was going to turn away.

"OK."

Syed had gone home before midnight, leaving Christian with a stray long dark hair on his pillow and rumpled sheets, still warm from the heat of his body. It hadn't been more than a couple of hours, but Christian knew that something momentous had happened. Certainly, in Christian's extensive experience, he'd never had a sexual encounter so generous or so satisfying. Their bodies had moved together like dancers in a choreographed rhythm, and even their whispered mutterings seemed to have a beat of all their own. He had stretched himself across the empty space in the bed left by Syed's departure and tried to work out what the hell had just happened.

Whatever it was, it had happened again. And Christian knew it would happen repeatedly. He wanted it to – he wanted it to happen all day, every day. Syed's sulky rejection and frightened threats couldn't diminish the magic of the time they'd spent in each others' arms. He'd tried to remind Syed of that, but Syed had pushed him away every time. Then, the crazed drama of the proposal in the Vic – a teetotaller, proposing in a pub – followed by the endless wedding chatter and the engagement party.

That party. Christian hadn't wanted to go, but couldn't keep himself away. He'd wondered if he could do something, say something, anything, to stop the engagement in its tracks, to make Syed change his mind. Instead, their eyes had burned into each other across the room, and in the kitchen Syed had thrown Christian's hand away, demanding that he never touch him again. And Christian had gone to the Vic that night and, well… he still carried the scars of the foolishness of his decision making after that.

And now Syed was back in his flat. This time, they hadn't argued - there was no adrenalin fuelled passion. Instead, Syed had spent two hours waiting outside Walford Police Station, while inside Christian had been grilled by two supposedly specialist hate-crime police officers.

"Mr. Clarke, are you sexually promiscuous?"

"I… well… what's that got to do with this?"

"Is picking up men in your local a frequent event for you, Mr Clark?"

Christian's face still burned with shame at the memory of it. He hadn't wanted to go to the police, hadn't wanted to have what happened turned into a judgement on the way he chose to live his life. It was a continuation of the attack in some senses – not as physically painful, but still a reproach on who he was and the choices he made.

Syed was standing hesitantly in the doorway. He'd asked Christian to invite him home, but didn't seem sure what to do with himself once he'd got there. Christian held out a hand to him. "Come in, sit down. I still can't believe you waited for me. Why did you do that?"

Syed took a few steps in and sat down on the pristine white sofa. "I couldn't leave. Even though I wasn't in there with you, I couldn't leave you. I wasn't with you last night… I mean… if I hadn't thrown you out of the party, you wouldn't have… he wouldn't have… I couldn't leave you alone again."

"Sy," it wasn't much more than a murmur but their arms went around each other and they clung tightly. Christian felt his eyes well up with tears for the umpteenth time that day. Pulling away, he stood up and grabbed Syed's hand,guiding him towards the bed. "Just hold me for a bit, will you Sy? Just to help me go to sleep."

The younger man enclosed him in his arms, gently brushing his lips against the bruised crown of Christian's head. "Sleep, my lovely," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Really?" Christian murmured, his eyes heavy lidded.

Syed nodded gently. "Yes. I'm here to hold your hand and take care of you." He gently interlocked his fingers with Christian and watched his lover's breathing change as he slipped into a dream.

Christian's sharp, jerky movements shook Syed awake in the early hours. "Not straight… not this time…" Christian's voice got louder. "What you doing, no… not again,,, Sy…. where's Syed,.. Sy!"

"Here, Christian, I'm right here, wake up!" Syed shook him awake. Christian's eyes opened and he stared blankly at Syed for a second. "What happened?"

"You had a nightmare, you were crying out."

"Him. It was about him. He was just about to start kicking me." Christian wiped his hand across his face trying to wipe away the memories of Luke's attack. "I need some water. Do you want something?"

"I'll get it." Syed threw the covers off and took the couple of steps towards the kitchen. "Do you think you'll be able to get back to sleep?"

Christian sat up in bed – "Nah, not for a while. But you sleep if you want to. I'll just sit up for a bit."

Syed climbed back under the covers, handing Christian a glass of water. "We spend so much time together at work, but it feels like we never have time to talk."

Christian smiled, and pulled Syed closer to him.

"Can I ask you something?"  
"Sure"

"What happened the first time you got beaten up? The time you ended up in hospital?"

Christian's arms tightened. "It was a group of them. They'd been around the estate where I lived for a while. I guess they'd seen me bring guys back, or go into the gay pubs in town. Anyway, they started shouting at me in the street, calling me names, that kind of thing. Then they started throwing stones at me. I just ignored it, thought it would go away. Then one night, I was walking home, had had a bit to drink and they pounced on me. Like I said, I ended up in hospital."  
"Christian…" Syed hesitated, uncertain.

"It was a long time ago, Sy. But it looks like attitudes haven't changed. You start to get complacent, feel safe somewhere, people know you, seem to accept you for who you are, you almost forget that you're different. And then something happens, and suddenly, you're isolated again – an outsider, with people more bothered about what happens in your bedroom than anything else."  
"Christian.."

"What? What is it?"

"It frightens me."

"What does?"

"The thought of that happening again… to you, to me. To us."

"To us? What do you mean – to us?"

"I … I don't know…. I'm just frightened that's all. This, you, it's been the best thing that's ever happened to me – and one of the worst. I can't sleep, I can't concentrate, I see Amira, my family, go to mosque – and then I come to work and you're there, and I'm so confused. How can this" Syed turned round in Christian's arms to face him – "be so wrong? And why am I still doing it when I know it's haraam?"

Christian leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Syed's. "It's not wrong, Sy. What's wrong about two people caring about each other? What does it matter what gender they are?"

"I don't know. But I've been taught it's haraam – all my life. The rules that I live my life by, the beliefs I have, they're embedded here, Christian", Syed pressed his hand against his heart. "I can't just throw them out. No matter how much I might want to. Life's a struggle, and we're supposed to fight against sinful wants and desires – not just pick and choose the rules we want to live by."

"Why can't you make your own decision about what's right and what's wrong? Don't some Muslims drink? Some smoke or have sex outside marriage? Why is it ok for them, and not for you?"

"It's not ok for them – at least as far as I'm concerned." Syed pulled away from Christian and sat up in the bed. "Christian, I was brought up believing these things, knowing these things. Just like you grew up knowing your own name, or the street where you lived. You couldn't wipe that knowledge out at a single stroke. I can't wipe out the fact that this is wrong. I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't, I wish it with all my heart, but it is."

"Sy… you know, we both know how much pain, and heartache and cruelty there is in this world. Look at my face, at the state of my ribs. Not everyone wants good things to happen, or works to make the world a better place. With such shit going on around us, how can something which is based on love and care be wrong? Isn't love always good, no matter who it's between?"  
"Love is, yes, but it doesn't have to be expressed physically. Amira and I…. Amira loves me but we're not sleeping together. No-one would stop us being friends Christian, but it shouldn't be physically expressed."  
"Didn't God make you as you are? Didn't Allah create you – every bit of you? Even the bit that makes you want to have sex with me? Why would that happen if it wasn't right?"  
"Everyone has their faults Christian, that's what being human is all about. It's our responsibility to work to overcome those faults."

"So what are you doing here then? These past few weeks, what have they all been about?"  
"You know what they've been about. You've told me. They've been about us. Getting to know each other. Finding each other. Arguing and fighting." Syed smiled up at Christian. "Making up again. It's been… beautiful. And… " Syed stroked his finger down Christian's bare chest. "Delicious."

There was a silence, as Christian watched Syed's finger trace itself down towards his stomach and below. Suddenly, the finger stopped.

"I know you must think I'm being hypocritical – and self-righteous, and judgemental. And stupid…."

"Ssssh." Christian leaned in to kiss him. "While you're here, you're none of those things. While you're here, you choose to be here. You're with me, and what's happening between us is right, and good. And, Sy – I don't want it to stop."

Syed's hand moved lower. "Neither do I, Christian. Neither do I."


	3. Chapter 3

Christian had stopped getting dressed in the mornings. Awake early, he spent the mornings lolling around in his blue towelling robe, drinking coffee, reading magazines. He'd finally been to the doctor who'd signed him off work and prescribed him with tablets he was refusing to take.

"What are the tablets gonna do?" he'd asked. "Are they going make what happened disappear? Nothing can do that. I just need some time, that's all."

The problem was, Syed didn't know how much time Christian was going to need. Work at the Unit was piling up – a testament to the success of Masala Queen – but also an indication of how reliant on each other they all were. Zainab was getting increasingly tetchy, in Pakistan, she reminded Syed, people didn't take time off work because of stress. They gritted their teeth and got on with it. But what plagued Syed's thoughts was the look in Christian's eyes – or rather, the look that had gone out of Christian's eyes. The familiar, taunting sparkle had gone – and now Christian's eyes seemed flat and lifeless.

Syed spent as much time as he could with Christian in the tiny flat, making excuses to leave the Unit during the day, or inventing needless shopping expeditions, relishing the moments when he could pound on the blue front door, glancing over his shoulder in case anyone was watching. Sometimes he would tell his mother where he was going, knowing that she could hardly disapprove as he was conforming to her own high standards of friendship. Once the door was closed behind him it was as if he was entering a different life, a life that no-one else knew about, except for the bruised, hurt man standing before him.

They spent many hours together, lying against each other on the sofa or the bed, often in silence, hands tightly clasped, replicating the comfort in each other's presence that they had come to relish in the Unit. Sometimes they spoke -random conversations about childhood memories, or recounting snippets of long remembered, overheard conversations, or imagining the lives of the family thumping around in the flat above. They rarely listened to music, or watched TV – instead, their silence carried the words they didn't need to say, their clasped hands reluctant to prise apart when Syed finally glanced at the clock, knowing he had to go.

Sex was rarely on the agenda. Christian was still sore from the beating, but Syed knew that that wouldn't have stopped him if sex was all he wanted. Christian was often moody and distant, snapping at any suggestion he might venture outside. At other times he retreated into himself, staring down at his fingers and twisting the thick silver ring on his finger round and round. Syed suspected he was reliving not just the most recent attack, but the one that had happened previously. Syed had experienced his share of racism in London, he'd had abuse shouted at him and been threatened on the street, but he'd never been attacked in his own home.

For both of them, the long afternoons spent curled up within the four walls of Christian's flat, behind the barrier of the blue front door, were about more than mere physical gratification. It was companionship, friendship, partnership. Syed didn't want to go further than that. He still loved Amira – or at least, he thought he did. But as the silence with Christian deepened as the weeks went by Amira's twittering, her increasing demands, her coquettish looks and coy smiles began to grate on him. Compared with the silent, often despondent man lying next to him on the sofa, Amira seemed shallow and fickle. She didn't know what it was to live an independent life, Syed thought resentfully, to have to rely on her own resources, to fend for herself, financially, practically and emotionally. Whereas the man stretched out beside him, eyes closed but not sleeping – Christian never seemed to sleep – asked for very little, except for the odd bag of sugar from the shop.

Sometimes, they talked about Amira. Christian said he could understand, said that he'd nearly married once, said that he knew what it was to love a woman, if not to be in love with one.

"I love Rox – I mean, she's a pain in the neck sometimes, but I still love her, yeah? I'll always be there for her, even if she does drivel on sometimes."

"Amira's not like Roxy, Christian. Amira, well, she's beautiful, and classy and grace…"

"Oi! Watch out what you're saying about Roxy, Sy. She's my mate."

"I know Christian, and Roxy's great. But that's the point. She's your mate. Amira, she's.. well, she's destined for me. We're expected to be together. Everyone expects it: my family, her family – well, at least, they would if they were around - our community. We're well matched. We're compatible."

"You're compatible? You make yourself sound like computer programmes. You don't love her, Sy."

"Christian, you have no idea how I feel about Amira."

"No? So what are we doing lying in my bed together then?"

"It's more complicated than that. Amira, she understands things. She knows what's expected. What we have to do, how to behave. She knows what her role will be, and what she can expect of me. We're good together like that, we understand each other."

"No, Sy, you understand each other's background. You understand each other's culture. But she doesn't understand you really, not in here". Christian pressed his hand against Syed's heart and the two of them fell silent, feeling it thumping hard against the palm of Christian's hand.

"She tries, Christian. And nothing's perfect. We'd be happy together. Even my mother agrees to that."

"This is perfect, Sy. You and me. A rainy afternoon, curled up under a big duvet. Feeling the beating of your heart. We don't need to understand each other's background. We don't even need to talk half the time. We just are. Haven't you noticed?"

Syed turned his head away. Christian's hand reached up and gently turned his face so they were looking into each others' eyes.

"You've noticed. I know you have. You may not want to admit it, but you know as well as I do. This isn't about being well-matched, or having compatible backgrounds. This is just about you and me."

"Christian… I… " Syed buried his face in Christian's shoulder and the older man's arms came round him.

"OK, Ok. You don't need to say it. I know."

*********************************************************************

"I think you're Superman."

God, what a stupid thing for him to say. But Syed couldn't keep the smile out of his voice or stop his lips from twitching at the corners. In the early days, he'd often glanced at Christian's sculpted body, reminding him of the superhero he'd watched on TV as an adolescent. Syed had pretended to have a crush on the actress playing Lois Lane, while really gazing at the actor, whose muscular body seemed more appealing and enticing than his alter ego's ability to fly. And now, he'd called Christian superman.

Christian had just run his fingers down the side of Syed's cheek and thanked him for all he'd done. Syed had blurted out his offer to spend the night if Christian would go out by himself – embarrassed both at his own gaucheness and Christian's gratitude. And Christian had turned his head away, as if he didn't want to be rewarded with sex, as if the physical act wasn't enough for the effort stepping outside the door would take. So Syed had clarified his offer: "The whole night."

And Christian had responded, making the two of them sound like teenagers sneaking around behind the adults' back. "Are you sure? Tonight?" Syed had nodded, smiling into Christian's eyes, already calculating what he'd say to his mother and to Amira. It would be possible to wing it, he thought, he'd just mention a friend from Uni and no-one would be any the wiser. He'd call him Chris – that would make it barely a lie at all. He'd turned his head towards the door then, partly to hide the tears welling up at Christian's need. He knew Christian would take up the challenge to go outside, but even if he hadn't he would have spent the whole night anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He was sitting so close to Amira, their thighs were touching. If it were Christian, Syed thought, this casual, simple touch would develop, even in a public setting. Their legs would begin to subtly move and rub against each other, barely discernible to anyone else, yet enough to send the blooding pulsing through Syed's veins. Or one of them would brush against the other, a finger, an arm, a hand. Such touches provided them both with constant reassurance, connection and care. Yet with Amira, there was nothing. Just the pressure of her limb pushed against his, as anonymous as a stranger pressed up against him on a crowded tube and as impersonal as airport security, patting him down.

Sitting side by side with Amira gave Syed a good view of her crowded kitchen. Most of the younger residents of the square were there for the party, Lucy, Stacey, Roxy – Syed mentally checked off the names of the people he knew. And Christian. He was there too, talking to Roxy in the corner, standing upright, looking whole again.

Syed felt the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he looked at him. Falling for Christian had caused more complications in his life than he cared to think about, yet Syed didn't find Christian himself complicated at all. For weeks he had been Christian's main contact with the outside world, his daily visits bridging the gap between Christian's increasing isolation and the life going on outside the tiny studio. And he's got to know the man in all his guises - he'd witnessed Christian's mood swings, his nightmares, and his tears. For Syed, Christian's vulnerability was palpable, but those closest to him didn't seem to see it.

Neither Roxy or Jane seemed to have noticed Christian's fear of venturing outside the tiny flat. From what Christian said, their visits were brief and infrequent. Jane had once rung on the doorbell when Syed had been there - the two of them had been lying clasped on the sofa together, simply staring at each other, Christian's fingers gently marking patterns on Syed's cheek. When the buzzer had sounded Christian had sat up, startled, and begged Syed to get the door. Jane had come in, and, departed quickly on seeing Syed, merely saying: "Oh you've got someone here. Then I'm sure you're fine. See ya."

Syed had in turns bullied, cajoled and tempted Christian out of the flat, ignoring Christian's mood swings and refusing to be intimidated by Christian's sharp tongue. Laying a trail, he had persuaded Christian to follow him; "If you come to work, I'll be there." "If you go to the shops, I'll be waiting in the market". "Ring me when you've finished in the post office and I'll meet you in the caff for a coffee." And it had worked. Christian's confidence had returned as his wounds had faded and now, here he was, standing in Amira's kitchen, swigging vodka straight from the bottle, one arm draped round Roxy's neck, making her giggle as he whispered things in her ear.

Amira's voice drew Syed's thoughts back to the present. "Party games?" he questioned. Christian will think this is stupid, he thought. My fiancée is embarrassing me in front of my lover. Patting her knee briefly he moved over to the sink, nearer to Christian, as Amira explained the game: "You pull two names pulled out of the bowl and those two people go into the bedroom together and decide on a story that has happened to one of them. Then they both come back in and tell the story and we get to decide which one is lying." There was a general groan around the room but Amira was not easily daunted. She handed the bowl to Lucy who pulled out the first two names.

"We should do this," Christian whispered in his ear. "We get two minutes alone in the bedroom, and then everyone gets to guess which one of us is lying."

Syed allowed himself a glance at Christian's face, reading anger and hurt there. Their relationship had been conveniently hidden while Christian had been recovering, his reluctance to go out had meant they could avoid talking about what was happening, and what it meant. Cocooned within the four walls of his tiny flat, they had created their own world, where no-one could interfere. But now Christian was recovering, the old argument had begun again.

The game had begun, couples were spinning tales, and the group were listening half-heartedly. The problem was, Syed thought, they all knew the details of each others' lives so well, there wasn't much that was secret. Except for him and Christian. But that wasn't just a secret – that was lying. Lying – Christian's whispered voice echoed round in Syed's head. He looked over at Amira, flitting around the room, a bright smile on her face, gently cajoling people into action. He wasn't just lying to her, he was lying to Christian. And to himself. His eyes moved from Christian to Amira and back again. They stayed with Christian – his gaze running across the man's shoulders, then down his torso, muscles visible beneath his shirt to his snugly fitting jeans. And Syed knew he couldn't do it any more.

He heard his name being called. Lucy had pulled it out of the bowl. Amira was laughing, and he waited to hear which name Lucy would call out next. "Stacey!" she shouted.

"No," Amira interrupted – "Stacey's already had a turn. She can't have another go. Pull another name out."

Lucy complied: "It's you Amira," she said.

A general cry went up. "Boring!" "No couples!" "Can't leave you two alone in the bedroom – you'll never come out!"

Syed stole a glance at Christian. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring down at his hands, disinterested. Yet Syed knew he was following every word.

"They're right Amira, we shouldn't go together. Here, let me pick the name out – there must be someone else who hasn't had a go."

Syed reached his hand into the bowl and rummaged around. He pulled out a tightly wadded slip of paper, and opened it clumsily. He looked down at the name written on it and then up at the crowd of faces, now seemingly quiet and expectant.

"It's Christian," he said quietly.

"Christian?" said Amira. "That's crazy! What on earth are the two of you going to have to say? You haven't got anything in common!" She reached out for the slip of paper, but Syed dropped it back into the bowl and idly stirred the papers round with his finger.

"Look, if we're going to play this game, let's just get on and do it, shall we?" he said to her. "Christian, come on. Let's go."

Christian looked up languidly. Right, thought Syed, so this is where we're at. He's going to play hard to get. "Roxy," he said, turning and walking out of the kitchen. "Get Christian in the bedroom for me would you?"

Roxy looked up at Christian. "Go on babe, it's only two minutes of your life," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Christian sauntered into the bedroom and gently nudged the door closed behind him with his foot. Leaning against the door frame, he crossed his arms and looked at Syed. "So, you've got me where you want me. What are you going to do with me?"

"Sit down, Christian. We haven't got long and we need to talk."  
"Talk? What's there to talk about? Your fiancée is outside that door organising party games, in case you had forgotten. You should be out there wrapping up pass the parcel, not sat in here telling me we need to talk."

"You're angry."

"Damned right I'm angry, Sy. Amira told me about Ramadan. Abstinence lasts from dawn to dusk. It's anything goes at nighttime. I've been hanging on for you for the last month yet you've been pushing me away. What the hell's going on? Are you interested in me or not?"  
"It's difficult, Christian. You don't understand…."

"There's nothing to understand Syed. And it's not difficult at all. There's two of us, me and Amira. One of us is male, one of us is female. You can't be with both of us at once. Which one is it to be?"  
"Christian, I really want to sort this out, I do, but…"

"You're lying again Syed. If you wanted to sort this out you could do it in five minutes flat. Just tell me to go, or tell Amira it's over. Stop lying to her, stop lying to me and for god's sake stop lying to yourself."  
"Christian…"

There was a hammering on the door. "Two minutes are up! Out you come!"

"Well there's an appropriate turn of phrase if ever there was one," murmured Christian turning towards the door.

"Christian, please. Just give us a second will you?" Syed called in the direction of the door.

"What?" Hands on hips, Christian stared at his lover.

"Just give me a chance will you?"  
"Syed, you've had lots of chances from me. And I'm sure Amira has given you lots of chances too. It's time for you to stop taking chances and make some decisions."

Christian turned around and opened the door. "Sorry darlin'," he shouted in Amira's direction waving his mobile phone. "I've had a better offer. Gotta go…" He turned towards the front door.

"Wait, Christian!" Syed's voice was urgent now. "It'll only take four minutes for both of us to tell the story. And I want to go first, like we agreed."

Christian's eyebrows knitted together in a frown and he tried to catch Syed's eye but the younger man had already headed towards the kitchen. Reluctantly, Christian followed, to see Syed beginning to hold court, the other guests gathered around him.

"Ok, so this is my version of the story," Syed began. Amira looked up at him and smiled, grabbing his hand, but Syed gently placed it on the edge of the sofa.

"A while ago, a little while ago, I met someone who turned my life upside down." Syed looked at Amira, but his face was serious. "I hadn't expected it to happen, hadn't planned or prepared for it, but sometimes these things just sweep you off your feet." Amira's smile grew wider, as she began to examine her fingernails.

"Anyway, I fell in love with this person," Syed hesitated, staring round the room before completing the sentence – "this MAN, and my life has never been the same since."

There was a stunned silence before the titters began. "Nice one Syed," shouted Roxy. "Didn't know you cared, Syed," said Bradley. "Syed!" Amira gasped. "Isn't that one just a bit obvious? Why did the two of you choose that story? We all know that the true version of it belongs to Christian."

"I didn't know that Christian was in love with anyone," murmured Lucy. "He's only my uncle, not that he ever tells me anything."

Syed's smile grew broader as he watched the reaction to what he had said. "Let me finish, please" he said. "So, since I met this man, my life has never been the same. He's taken over my dreams, day and night, and my reality begins the moment I see him in the morning. I love him, and I want to be with him, but I don't know yet if he'll have me."

Christian looked at Syed, his eyes growing wider as he took on board what Sy had said. Was it for real or was Sy playing the game? Christian wasn't sure. He hesitated between staying and going, leaving Sy to his own crazy way of doing things, or hanging on, to see what the man was playing at.

Soon, he heard his name being called. "Come on Christian, we want to know who this man is. What's his name? Does he live in the square?"

Christian looked at the rows of faces staring up at him. What on earth was he supposed to say? He took a deep breath and looked over at Syed. A slight smile was edging at Syed's lips and Christian thought he saw the younger man give an imperceptible nod. Christian smiled nervously back. Syed was the one who started this, he thought. He can sort out the mess afterwards.

"Yeah, well, as Syed said, there's this guy I've met recently. He's beautiful. Most people think only women can be beautiful but this guy has hair that makes you want to lace your fingers through it, skin so smooth you want to stroke your hands across it and eyes large and dark enough to drown in. When I first met him, I dismissed him, thought he was a loser, and a fool" – Christian glanced over at Syed to see the younger man's eyebrows lift slightly – "but soon I realised how lovely he is. I didn't notice I was falling in love at first. I would listen for his footsteps, recognising his footfall above everyone else's."

"Well, moved as I'm sure we all are by Christian's lurrrvvve," said Stacey, "that one's too easy. We all know it's Syed who's lying so let's just get a move on. I want another go."

"Wait a minute," said Lucy suddenly. "I don't think Christian's finished yet, have you, Uncle Christian?" He ignored the sarcasm in her voice and continued.

"Ok, well, soon I realised that he was the first thing I thought about when I woke up in the morning. The last person I wanted to speak to before I went to sleep at night. The person whose opinion I listened out for, even when he wasn't saying anything. When he stands next to me, I feel my heart beat go stronger, and when we are apart, my nerves are aching for him to return. I never knew it was possible to love someone's faults as well as their good points, to find bad habits endearing, instead of irritating. I didn't know that it was possible to put someone else's needs before my own, or to memorise the words that someone uses. But this is how I feel about him, this is how much I love him." Christian tailed off, and stared defiantly at Syed who was looking down at the floor.

A general murmuring of appreciation went around the room as the residents of the square turned to each other to smile at Christian's clear passion. Only Lucy noticed where Christian's eyes were fixed to the top of Syed's head.

Aren't we supposed to check with Syed, first? After all, Christian might be the one who's lying."

Amira looked round at Lucy in bemusement. "What are you talking about Lucy? Of course Syed's lying. We're getting married in a few months time. He's not in love with anyone else, let alone a man."

Lucy's eyebrows rose slightly but she stayed silent.

"For all I know, they could both be lying," said Roxy suddenly. "And if they're not, then Christian Clarke I want to know why you haven't told me about this man, whoever he is."

"Let's just get on with it," Amira said, suddenly impatient. She picked up the bowl full of names and shook it, trying not to notice that Christian and Syed suddenly seemed to be standing very close together. "Who wants to go next? Roxy, you haven't had a turn."

"No," said Roxy. "I want to know who this man is. Come on Christian, tell us."

Christian tore his eyes away from Syed's. Syed's words had set his heart pounding in his chest and butterflies doing somersaults in his stomach. He still wasn't sure if Syed was just toying with him, playing the game, and he wasn't prepared to take another risk. "I think Syed should tell you. After all, he was the one who told the story first."

Amira got up and stretched her hand out to Syed, as if to take possession of him. "Come on Syed, this is a stupid game, I wish I'd never started it. It's obvious who's lying and I'm really not interested in hearing about Christian's latest conquest. Let's start some dancing in the other room."

Amira's hand stayed, suspended in mid air, as Syed looked down at it. "Christian wasn't lying," he said quietly, then stretched his own hand out towards Christian's. Their fingers gently interlocked as all eyes in the room moved towards their clasped hands. "And neither was I."

Syed turned to Christian. "I love you Christian. I've been too much of a coward up until now to admit it, to you, to anyone else, even to myself. But ever since that first day in the Unit, when I made such a fool of myself, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You're the first person I want to see every morning, the last person I want to speak to before I sleep. I want to work with you, to sleep with you, to have you by my side. I'm sorry that I've hurt you, and I hope you'll give me another chance."

Christian tightened his grip on Syed's fingers, not willing to trust his own voice, as Syed turned to Amira. "I'm sorry Amira, I really am. I've lied to you, to Christian, and to myself. If I could change any of this, I could, I never wanted to hurt you. But I can't help who I am, or who I love. This is the way I was made, and Christian is the person I truly want to be with. You're a beautiful, lovely woman, and I will always love you as a friend, but I can't give you more than that. I'm sorry."

Amira choked and ran out of the silent room. Syed turned to Christian and reached up to take his face in his hands. "Is that 'out' enough for you, now then?" he asked, with upturned lips and a smile in his eyes.

"Sy, I can't believe… did I just… did you… you're mad, but I love you!" Christian leaned towards him and the two of them kissed as their friends around them cheered and Roxy whooped with joy.

"It's nightfall," Syed whispered as their lips finally broke apart. "Ramadan's over, for today at least. How about we go back to your place?"

"I'm not going to say no to that," Christian replied. "But those two minutes in the bedroom were the best I've ever had."

Finish.


End file.
